Hotel California
by mtothedestiel
Summary: Dean and Cas stop at a mysterious hotel on their way to a case, and after one idyllic night, things get out of control fast. Meanwhile Sam tries to find the pair who, to the outside world, have vanished without a trace.
1. Chapter 1

"Impressed as I am that these birds manage to sound like humans, you know I dislike the Eagles, Dean."

"You know Cas, sometimes I find it hard to believe I'm sleeping with you. The Eagles are awesome."

"If find this song grating. It is overplayed."

"Like you would know."

"I've been alive since before the radio was invented Dean. I am aware of all patterns in song repetition."

"Sorry! I can't hear you over this killer guitar riff!"

"I find that very hard to believe Dean!"

"Hey…think that looks like a good place to stop? Looks like they've got a Mexican restaurant."

"I don't eat Mexican food. And I'm not tired. We should keep moving."

"You don't eat anything but cheeseburgers. And you're never tired. I've got needs, man. We're stopping."

"Hm..."

"Hey. Motel _rooms_ mean motel _sex_."

"…Dean I believe I am tired as well. This establishment looks promising."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

_Hey Garth, it's Sam again. Any word from Dean and Cas? I'm starting to get worried, man. No…ok. Let me know if…_

_Kevin, Sam here. I know you're busy. Has Dean stopped by lately? Or Cas? _

_Gabriel, who I assume is _not_ in Heaven, it's..uh Sam. (I can't believe Dean does this all the time. It's_ so_ weird.) Anyway, I need your help, man. Dean and Cas took off on a textbook salt and burn two days ago and I haven't heard anything from them since. Any ripples in the pond upstairs? Dean's not answering any of his cells and Cas ears aren't on. I'm starting to think something's up. Let me know. Amen, or whatever. _


	2. I had to stop for the night

As they pulled into the small and ill kept parking lot, Castiel mused over the nature of hotels in America. They were all the same. Rather than boring, Castiel found it fascinating. Large buildings with minor variations in décor all housing a honey comb of private spaces perfectly suited to dining, recreation, and enjoying physical intimacies. Castiel imagined if you were to bisect some of the larger establishments it would be like revealing the inner workings of a termite nest. This building was smaller; closer to what he supposed in human terms would be called a bed and breakfast. Castiel felt somewhat exposed as they exited their vehicle, given that the hotel was situated along an otherwise empty stretch of highway. The last town had been a good hour behind them. Dean, more accustomed to life on the road, seemed unperturbed, and instead was focused on his small mobile phone. Castiel waited patiently while Dean finished his message.

"Just lettin' Sam know that we're stopping off," he mumbled before stowing the device in his back pocket. Castiel walked slightly behind him as they approached the mission style building. He usually preferred to let Dean take the lead when it came to human interactions. Also, walking a step or two behind Dean offered a very agreeable view of the hunter's ass, which, Castiel had learned from experience, was a fine specimen to behold.

Castiel felt a bizarre shiver as they passed through the glass double doors, as if he had accidentally walked through a spider's web. He paused, resting a hand on the aluminum doorframe. Despite his Grace flickering through the metal, he could sense nothing paranormal about the building, or the entranceway. Dean turned when he noticed Castiel was no longer following.

"Come on, slowpoke," Dean chided, "Let's get checked in before they run out of tacos. They smell damn good from here."

Maybe it was Dean's reassuring grin, but an inner voice told Castiel that everything was just fine, and that he need not investigate further. He withdrew his Grace from the walls and followed the hunter to the check in desk, where a young woman waited with a welcoming smile. Castiel decided he would not disturb Dean with his brief sense of unease. Despite his own impatience, Dean did look tired from the long drive, and Castiel still considered it his responsibility to ensure Dean was taking care of himself. Castiel was more than capable of protecting them both if the need were to arise, and in the meantime there was no reason for Dean to be distressed. When Dean jingled their room keys in front of Castiel with a smile, Castiel returned it easily, shaking off his reverie and following Dean down the hallway.

* * *

Dean inspected the room, just a standard check for hex bags or sigils carved into furniture. It was a typical hotel set up, with a half-hearted attempt at Southwestern flair. Mass produced photos of the Grand Canyon hung framed on the wall, and the walls themselves were a sandy marbled pattern. The single queen bed, which Dean had practically dared the hostess to comment on when he'd rented the room for the both of them, had a dark red coverlet to match the thick curtains that were open to let in the sun, which was just beginning to set despite it being almost eight. Dean stashed his handgun under one of the too fluffy pillows on the bed, and left a bottle of holy water in the desk drawer, right next to the complimentary Gideon bible. Just in case.

When Dean had finished his routine, Castiel was considering the large bed as a scientist analyzes a big batch of data. As Dean wrapped his arms around the angel, planting a kiss on his shoulder, Cas turned his head to examine Dean with the same brow furrowed concentration.

"Thinking dirty thoughts?" Dean kept his lips moving, scooting closer to the sensitive skin of Cas' neck. They'd have plenty of time later, but there was nothing wrong with a little heavy petting before dinner.

"I would like to have intercourse with you, Dean." Dean stilled against the fabric of Castiel's trench coat, then resumed his ministrations, keeping his voice even.

"Uh, I don't know where you've been for the last couple of months Cas, but we've had sex plenty-"

"That's not my meaning, which I know you're already aware of."

Dean ceased his kissing with a sigh, nuzzling into Cas' hair instead. They'd been dancing around this issue for almost a week now. It wasn't a fight, no one was angry, but it wasn't going away either. "I know."

"Three months. Three. I'm willing to be the submissive partner, if that is your concern-"

"First of all, I don't think that word means what you think it means-"

"Fine. I am willing to be penetra-"

"Ok! I got it! I get it Cas, but that's not the issue here, ok?" Dean stepped away from the angel, pretending to be busy hanging up his jacket to hide his discomfort with the topic of conversation. It's not like he didn't want to go all the way with Cas. He did. Just…you know…_someday_.

"Is this about your preoccupation with gender norms? Because, as I have established to you repeatedly, I am not male."

"Not to _you_ maybe. Anyways, that's not it. I like your maleness. …Never thought I'd hear myself say that."

"Then what? My feelings for you are not trivial, and I wish to consummate them."

"Hey." Dean turned Cas around to kiss him long and slow. "Nobody's feeling anything trivial here, ok?"

Castiel's eyes fluttered shut, even after Dean pulled away again. "Ok."

"We'll get to the consumating," Dean said quietly, flicking an unruly strand of hair off of Cas' forehead, "I just…need a little more time to adjust is all."

"I understand," Castiel rumbled, eyes warm, if somewhat frustrated, "Despite humans' relatively short life spans, it's still very difficult for you to adapt to new revelations concerning relationships and sexual preferences."

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I forget what a sweet talker you are." Cas continued to squint at him in what Dean hoped was fond confusion. Dean gave him a light peck before encouraging him to shed his heavy trench coat.

"If we're gonna eat tacos in a non-air conditioned hotel in the middle of California summer, the coat stays here," Dean said firmly, hanging the somewhat threadbare garment beside his own jacket, "We don't need people looking at us funny anymore than they already do."

Castiel looked momentarily disconcerted, but after a short while he also shrugged off his suit coat, remaining only in his white shirt and tie as they headed back to the hotel's connected restaurant. Dean did his best to keep his focus on where his feet were going, and not on the shape of Cas' torso, no longer hidden by so many layers.

As they approached the dining room, where the same woman who had checked them in turned out to be the waitress as well, Dean had to marvel at the fact that the biggest problems they seemed to be having right now were whether him and Cas were ready to have sex and Sam deciding if he was gonna reorganize the Men of Letters library by genre or author's last name. Ever since Gabriel had blown back into town things on the Heaven and Hell fronts had cooled down until Team Free Will was basically back to hunting poltergeists and skinwalkers. From what the archangel was saying, it looked like God was taking more of an interest in his creations, and Gabe was back to being his number one messenger boy, which meant Crowley was lying low and the angels weren't being a big a bunch of dicks as usual. Cas was off the hook apparently, after Gabriel told him that he was going to have a nice long chat with Heaven's personnel management. Dean knew that Castiel's guilt still weighed on him, but he didn't plan on letting the angel carry it by himself anymore. They seemed to have come to an understanding, as Cas had become prone to staying in the bunker with Dean and Sam, and more often than not accompanying them on their hunts.

They were seated at a corner table with the sort of strange wicker chairs that tourists would think of as authentic. Cas sat across from Dean, examining the plastic coated menu with a slightly overwhelmed expression, while the waitress waited to take down their order.

"…I believe I'll just have a soda," the angel concluded at last, closing the extensive menu with a slight frown. The young woman looked slightly concerned, but Dean just gave her the trademark Winchester smile.

"He's a light eater," Dean assured her, "I'm gonna have Combination three, no sour cream."

"That'll be right up," she said, still eyeing Cas strangely. The waitress left them to their conversation and the complimentary chips and salsa that adorned the table. Dean munched his way through most of the bowl, Castiel satisfied to keep watch over the empty dining room. With he and Cas being the sole occupants of the room, Dean couldn't help but feel the lack of Sam sharply.

"It almost feels as if we ought to pull up a third chair," Castiel said abruptly, "Just in case."

"What?" Did Cas just read his mind? The angel huffed a laugh.

"You were lost in thought," Cas continued, "I only assumed you were thinking of Sam's absence on this case."

"Oh," Dean said, "Yeah, I guess I was. You know me pretty well."

"I try." Castiel only looked a little bit smug.

"It's not that I'm not happy to be here with you," Dean assured the angel, "And I'm sure Sam's glad for a few nights in the library without listening to us do the dirty two rooms down-" Cas had the decency to blush slightly at that thought- "It's just…"

"He usually fills up much of my field of vision," Castiel finished the sentence for him, "Without him there is a lot more empty space."

"Was that a joke?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes. I was referring to your brother's above average size," Cas said, considering, "I found it to be humorous." Dean's witty commentary on the angel's comedic abilities was cut short by the return of the waitress with their food. She was distantly friendly, though Dean noticed her eyes flicking over to Cas more than once. A small and jealous part of Dean thought maybe she was checking him out, though she definitely didn't have the usual waitress set of flirting skills.

"It's not very busy, huh?" Dean noted, "Where's the dinner rush?" The waitress seemed momentarily uncomfortable, but smiled again quickly.

"Well it is the off season," she said, "We're a little out of the way to get many dinner visitors. It's usually just guests and you two are the only ones here tonight." Dean noticed that Castiel was staring, and for once not at him. The angel appeared to be trying to read the waitress like a cheap novel, eyes tight with laser focus.

"Lucky us," Dean flirted, kicking the angel under the table, "Looks like we've got the whole place to ourselves, _Cas_." Castiel jumped, shaking his head like he was waking up from a daydream, and tried to give the waitress a charming smile, which of course made him look like he was in some kind of pain. It was a handy thing Cas was so good lookin', not to mention a total bamf, because his human interactions still left something to be desired. If the waitress noticed Cas' odd behavior she didn't comment, and after a few niceties she left the pair to their dinner.

Cas watched the waitress return to the kitchen with a bizarre fascination.

"See something you like?" Dean asked him pointedly. The angel broke his stare to give Dean a dry glance before answering.

"That server's mind," Castiel informed him, "It's unusually placid."

"You mean like peaceful?" Dean inquired, curious at Cas' observation.

"Perhaps," Cas agreed, "Usually emotions are strong enough in a human that I can glean at least their disposition without reaching too far into their thoughts. However I received no information from her."

"Brings a whole new meaning to 'mind blank', huh?" Dean quipped, chuckling at his own joke. Castiel was less amused.

"I'll assume that was some kind of pun," he said, looking towards the kitchen again.

"Well do you think it's our kind of thing?" Dean asked. Castiel tilted his head, pursing his lips uncertainly.

"There appears to be nothing…malevolent about her," Cas said at last, "I will try to be more careful in my observations as the evening continues."

Dean nodded, digging into his platter as Cas sipped on his soda, playing the human role just enough. The tacos were good, though Dean was more focused on his angel than what he was eating. Dean didn't take it lightly when Castiel mentioned something that was bothering him. He was a man of few words, Cas, so if he brought it up it meant Dean should pay attention. Castiel already seemed relaxed again though, no trace of his suspicion from just moments ago. That seemed a bit weird to Dean; once Cas was in vigilance mode it usually took a while for him to loosen up again. Castiel looked at him as if to ask "What?" and Dean just shrugged, working his way through the hot rice and beans on his plate. If Cas said everything was good then Dean believed him. It's not like there were many things out there that would take on an angel without thinking twice.

Dean offered Castiel one of his tacos, which he politely declined. He did ask for a refill on his soda when the waitress came around to check on them, though Dean thought that was more of an attempt to examine her mind again than any real thirst on Cas' part. Fortunately Cas didn't discover anything sinister beneath the waitress's friendly exterior and Dean wrote her off as just content. Dean ate at a soldier's pace, and in a few minutes his plate was mostly cleaned, which Castiel had watched with his usual morbid fascination. The dining room remained empty, so Dean didn't feel the need to rush out that he sometimes did in more crowded restaurants. Instead he reclined in the slightly awkward wicker seat, elbows propped as he examined the angel that he had lately begun to think of as his. Cas was tracing patterns in the condensation on his glass, nothing special just the unconscious movement of his index finger and thumb across the cool surface but it had Dean a little mesmerized. He knew what those hands felt like against his skin, and it'd been a while now since he and Cas started up this thing they're in, but sometimes for Dean it was still a little surreal.

"You have good hands," Dean commented absently, drawing one of Castiel's limber mitts into his own, tracing the knuckles with his thumb. "Big and strong. They're good…y'know, for smiting."

"And for touching," Cas added, blue eyes soft as he covered their joined hands with his wide palm, enclosing Dean's fingers in a warm and sheltering grip. Dean brushed his fingers against the soft skin of Castiel's wrist, nodding. He still got a bit of a rush from touching Cas in public. They weren't big on PDA, him and Cas. Dean had a feeling even Sam hadn't seen much more than the occasional brush of fingers or a casual arm thrown across the back of a chair. Of course Castiel was a demon in the sack, no pun intended, so Dean didn't mind keeping it cool outside the bedroom if that was how the angel liked it. But it was nice, even in an empty restaurant, to make this little claim on each other. Dean laughed despite himself, squeezing Castiel's hand.

"You know what they say about big hands," Dean quipped with a lewd wink, dispersing some of the tension of the moment.

"No, I don't, but I assume the answer is an innuendo," Cas said plainly, his eyes tracing contours of Dean's face. Dean grinned as the angel's pulse fluttered under his fingertips.

"You wanna head upstairs?" Dean asked, Castiel looking away with a secret smile.

"I think that would be a good idea," Cas answered him, hand flexing in Dean's grip as the angel's eyes twinkled. Christ almighty, Dean hoped nobody ever found out he had thought the word _twinkled._ Castiel vanished with the sound of fluttering wings, only to reappear before Dean had time to be startled.

"I'm betting our bill is all taken care of," Dean guessed, going by the preening Cas always did when he showed off his angel mojo.

"Yes," Cas agreed, "We left a very generous gratuity. Shall we?"

"Yeah," Dean said, standing, "I wanna see if Sam's sent us that research for the case yet. And…you know…other stuff." Castiel nodded with a half smile and they made their way to their room. Dean figured if Cas brushed their hands together, well it was just 'cause the hallway was a little narrow.


	3. Sweet summer sweat

"This has gotta be the first time we've ever stayed in a motel with no freaking wi-fi," Dean cursed as he fussed with the internet connection on their laptop, "Sam must have some kind of magic wireless mojo."

"It would appear we also lack cell phone reception," Cas informed him, squinting at the device in his hand as though it were personally conspiring against him.

"Huh, weird," Dean mused, "I hope Sammy got my message." Castiel looked troubled, peering out through dark red drapes with suspicion.

"Take it easy Cas," Dean said gently, slapping the laptop closed in defeat, "We can rough it for one night." The angel nodded solemnly, flicking the curtains shut, blocking out the last fiery rays of the setting sun as Dean clicked on the small bedside lamp. Next to the lamp Dean noticed a little radio, one of those alarm clock combos from the late nineties. He smiled, thinking back to all the motel rooms he and Sam shared as teenagers, before laptops were common, spending agonizing minutes fiddling with the dials until a tolerable station could be found. Dean flicked the power on and jumped as static blared from the small speakers. Castiel smirked as Dean wrestled with the scanner, catching snatches of talk shows and classical music. He strode over, calmly taking a knee and stilling Dean's hand on the dials. Skimming a finger across the plastic casing, Cas began to flick through various stations as if he were flipping the pages of a magazine.

"Show off," Dean muttered, and Cas gave him a look that on anyone but an angel of the Lord would have been considered flirtatious.

"Tell me when to stop," Castiel said, working his way through the airwaves until Dean heard a familiar set of chords.

"Hey hey, go back to that one," Dean told the angel, "That's the one." Castiel obeyed, and Dean pulled him to his feet as the static cleared and the sweet sounds of Sam Cooke filled the room.

"This is great," Dean intoned, doing his best Harrison Ford impression, "This is the _best_." Castiel simply tilted his head in confusion. "C'mon Cas, haven't you ever seen Witness?"

"Witness what?" Dean just shook his head, sliding his hands down Cas' forearms till their fingers were intertwined.

_Don't know much about history…_

"Dance with me."

_Don't know much biology…_

"You hate dancing."

_Don't know much about a science book…_

"I don't hate dancing with _you_."

_Don't know much about the French I took…_

Dean kept his grip on one of Cas' hands, sliding his other arm around the angel's waist, tugging him out into the center of the room to sway a little awkwardly to the tinny melody. So Dean wasn't cut out for Dancing of the Stars, sue him. He had his hands on Cas, and it felt good. It would feel better if the angel would play along of course.

"C'mon Cas," Dean teased, pulling him a little closer, "I thought angels were all about the singing and dancing." Castiel rolled his eyes with a smirk, though he did loosen up a little, winding his unoccupied arm around Dean to rest a hand against the small of his back.

_But I do know one and one is two…_

Even with the arrival of evening, it was sticky and humid in the room, and Deans' shirt clung to his back. He was glad he'd managed to talk Castiel out of his coat before they'd gone to dinner, or they would have gotten some weird looks for sure. Now Dean was doubly happy, running his hand up and down Cas' back unhindered by the heavy material as they moved in an easy circle.

"It's too hot." Cas got frustrated when his vessel reacted to things like temperature without his permission. Dean just laughed.

"Mm I like a little sweat on you. Tastes better." Dean demonstrated, laying an open mouthed kiss at the crux of Castiel's neck and shoulder, Cas' damp skin salty on his tongue. Cas inhaled sharply, his arm tightening around Dean's middle.

_And if this one could be with you…_

"_Now_ you like dancing," Dean whispered in Castiel's ear, before kissing the delicate skin just under it.

"I didn't realize it was going to serve as foreplay for physical intimacy," Cas admitted, breathless, as they swayed to the classic lyrics. Dean laughed, swinging Castiel around the room like he saw in a movie one time. It shouldn't turn him on to hear Cas use words like that but by God it did.

"'Physical intimacy' is the whole point," Dean informed him with a brief touch of their lips. Cas followed his mouth when he pulled away to spin them again.

_What a wonderful world it could be…_

Castiel caught onto the game pretty quick, pressing up against Dean playfully as they made clumsy steps to the bright music. Dean worked the buttons open on Cas' sleeves one handed, eagerly tasting the delicate inside of the angel's wrist as Castiel slid his other hand just under the edge of Dean's dark green button down, fingers teasing at the skin of Dean's lower back. From the increasingly insistent brushes of their hips Dean could tell he and Cas were definitely on the same page. It didn't take much to make Dean forget the rhythm of the song they were meant to be dancing to, walking Cas backwards until he could press the angel against the cool wall, grinning devilishly as Dean tugged his tie loose.

"Don't know much about geography…" Dean sang along under his breath, more than a little off tune as he buried his face in Castiel's neck. He continued to hum along, lips brushing his angel's collarbones and Adam's apple as he worked open the buttons on Castiel's shirt. Dean laid eager hands on the smooth expanse of Cas' exposed chest, his muscles jumping as Dean's fingers teased a nipple. Castiel managed to get most of the buttons on Dean open, his good strong hands wrapping eagerly around Dean's back to pull their bodies closer. They kissed, soft but excited, tongues skimming over teeth and lips rasping against stubble and damn if it didn't just make Dean happy to be like this.

"You look so good like this," Dean huffed, the music fading as he worked his hands through Cas' dark hair, "So many things I wanna do to you."

"You are aware of what I would like Dean," Cas reminded him, though there was nothing hostile in his words.

"I know," Dean acknowledged, then, grinning, "But for now…"

Dean skimmed his fingers down Cas' chest, grazing the taut muscles of his belly as Cas stared at him with lust blown eyes. He opened the button on Castiel's slacks with a flick of his wrist, sliding his belt free from its loops until it fell to the floor with a clank. Cas ran his hands eagerly over Dean's neck and shoulders, fingers bunching in the material of his shirt as Cas pulled him forward into a hungry kiss. Dean returned the kiss with enthusiasm, pressing Cas into the wall as he coaxed his pants down until they lay tangled around his ankles. Then, with a sneaky hand on the waistband of Cas' boxers, Dean sank to his knees.

It was a small matter for Dean to tug his underwear down and then hey, there was Castiel's dick, looking all perky and just begging for attention. Dean's salivary glands kicked into gear and he swallowed, knowing that Cas' eyes would follow the motion of his Adam's apple. It wasn't the first time he had done this for the angel, not by a long shot, but every time Dean's knees hit the floorboards Cas looked at him like it was a brand new phenomenon, and Dean would never get tired of that expression on Castiel's face. Dean would also never get tired of being a teasing little shit, so he ignored the very attractive organ in front of him to plant a kiss on Castiel's hip, mouth falling _just_ shy of the hot button zone.

Cas let out a sound that was too manly to be called a whine, but definitely conveyed a similar message.

"Something wrong?" Dean asked innocently, moving his lips down towards Castiel's legs, "Is this boring for you? Too familiar?" Cas gave a twitch as Dean ran his hand down the back of his knee where he knew he was ticklish.

"I know-ah!-I know what you're doing," Castiel tried to growl, voice breaking partway through, "And it is _not_ humorous."

"You sure you're not satisfied Cas?" Dean asked, nuzzling into Castiel's inner thigh, "Nothing I could do for you right now that you'd enjoy?"

"Please Dean," Castiel panted, sagging a little against the wall. Dean braced Cas' thighs, helping him stay upright.

"You gotta ask me, angel," Dean teased, Castiel hot and stiff against his cheek, "I wanna hear you."

"Put your mouth on me," Cas begged, hands digging into Dean's shoulders, "Please…"

Castiel's eyes were wide and his mouth slack as Dean stroked his hands up and down the angel's legs. He was already lost and Dean hadn't even touched him yet. Castiel's fingers shifted to Dean's neck, rasping against the hair at the base of Dean's skull as Castiel stared down at him like Dean was his only tie to reality. The reality of that dependence, of the _faith_ that Cas had in him, sent a streak of heat to Dean's groin, and with a whispered reassurance he placed a wet, openmouthed kiss at the base of Cas' dick, sucking lightly at the hard flesh. Castiel's head hit the sheetrock with a smack, a shameless groan tearing from his throat.

Dean could tell you, there were some interesting google searches made in the first few weeks after he and Cas started going at it. If they had anything in common in the bedroom, it was their mutual inexperience. But between shared enthusiasm, and the occasional shady internet tip, Dean figured they had worked enough out to make it worth their while, if the frequency with which Castiel dragged him into their room and tore his clothes off was anything to go by.

Of course the best tricks had been the ones Dean had learned on his own. Like how he could coax that perfect, beautiful moan out of Cas by running his tongue up his shaft at just the right angle. Like the prickle of pleasure that filtered down his spine when Castiel tugged his hair just enough to sting a little. Or how after three months of practice, it turned out Dean had impressive control over his gag reflex when he felt like it.

Dean closed his mouth around Cas' erection, sucking hard on the head as he tasted the first bitter droplets of precome on his tongue. Castiel whimpered, sucking deep breaths as Dean slid his lips down a ways, savoring the silk of Castiel's skin against his tongue and the quiver of his muscles under Dean's hands. Had it taken Dean a while to get used to the idea of giving a blowjob? Yeah. Maybe after the first time he'd hyperventilated in Cas' arms, certain that if anyone ever found out Dean Winchester had sucked a dick and liked it they'd strip him of his man card and he'd never be allowed to wear flannel or drink beer again. Maybe Castiel, still blissed out from his orgasm, had told him very gently that Dean had just brought him to the finest climax of his existence and the least he could do was man up and show a little pride in it. And maybe now, three months later, the noises that Cas made as Dean sucked him off were getting him so hard that Dean was pretty sure he was going to come in his jeans without Castiel even laying a hand on him.

Dean groaned around Cas' cock, causing the angel to thrust his hips forward involuntarily, pushing further into Dean's throat than he was ready for just yet. Dean stayed calm, pulling back with a warning squeeze on Cas' leg.

"Careful," Dean murmured, a hand guiding Cas' hips so they moved back against the wall, "You know I can't stop you if you aren't careful."

"Apologies," Cas puffed, taking a deep breath as Dean stroked him with a loose hand, laying kisses on his belly as he got himself under control.

"Nothin' to apologize for," Dean assured him with a wink, "You know I like a little manhandling."

Castiel gave a flushed half smile, grateful that Dean could make light of his angelic strength. Dean sucked a light mark into Cas' stomach before taking him back into his mouth and sinking down again. Cas gasped, but kept his hips firmly in place, and Dean stroked up and down his thigh in praise. It was true Castiel was powerful, but Dean never felt afraid when they were together like this. The slightest reminder from Dean and Cas came back to himself. He'd never left a mark that Dean hadn't specifically invited.

Setting up a healthy rhythm, Dean moved his lips around Cas' cock, pressing forward until he felt the pressure at the back of his throat that would leave him good and hoarse later. Despite his firm grip Dean knew Cas healed too quick to leave any reminder of his touch, so it got him pretty hot knowing that his roughened voice would be a lasting souvenir of their night's activities. As if reading his mind, Castiel's hands gently encircled Dean's throat, shivering at each clench and shift of the muscles there as Dean swallowed, putting new pressures on Cas' dick. Dean tamped down on his hunter's instincts that panicked at someone having him in a chokehold. This was _Cas_, who was literally his freakin' guardian angel. The fact that Dean had his guardian's dick in his mouth kinda put the kibosh on the usual fluffy winged cherub image, but Dean definitely preferred his version. Castiel was all kinds of hot, his voice growing a little more desperate as he neared his climax. Cas didn't waste a lot of words when they were getting it on, but that didn't mean he wasn't vocal.

Dean opened his jeans one handed, palming himself through his boxers as Cas let out a rumbling groan, thrusting his hips in shallow increments. Dean welcomed the motion this time, his throat relaxed and open as he sucked Cas off. He wasn't deep throating or anything fancy, but Cas was all good and slick and pressing just far enough against the back end of Dean's tongue to make it interesting.

"Dean..I-I-" Cas was close, absent fingers clutching at Dean's hair. Dean pulled off with a wink and a smile and just said "Come for me angel" before taking Cas in as far as he could and sucking, hard. Cas practically shouted, going still as a statue under Dean's hands before he orgasm rippled through his vessel. Dean was painfully aware of the aching hardness in his own pants as hot come pulsed down his throat and Castiel's muscles jumped under his hands. He kept going until the angel was soft and pliable, hands stroking Dean's face with satisfied lethargy. Dean pulled off, wiping his mouth on his sleeve with a smirk. There was a joke there, Dean was sure, about "always coming when he calls", but now didn't seem the appropriate time, with Castiel tugging Dean back to his feet for a deep kiss.

Castiel licked into Dean's mouth with authority, despite his relaxed, post orgasm hold on Dean's waist. Dean let a needy sound escape his lips, which Cas quickly swallowed, pulling Dean forward so their bodies were flush. The slight pressure against Dean's dick was the worst kind of tease, but Dean figured he had it coming after his little display a few minutes ago. He tried to torque his hips, seeking friction against Cas' lithe body, but the angel held him back with a firm grip and a satisfied grin.

"Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed, flexing his hips against Castiel's immovable hold. Cas eyed the very obvious tent in Dean's boxers like he was going to smite it with all the wrath of Heaven. He looked back at Dean, going from boneless to predatory in the blink of an eye. He latched his mouth onto Dean's throat, tongue and lips exploring all the muscle and tendon that had fascinated him minutes ago.

"I believe it's my turn to bring you to completion," Cas whispered against the taut skin of Dean's neck, a hand cupping possessively over his erection, "I plan to do so very efficiently."

Dean's face grew hot, and not just from embarrassment, as Cas hefted him up without a second thought and deposited him on their bed. Sleeping with an angel had its perks.


	4. voices are calling from far away

_Come to me…_

Castiel awoke beside Dean with a start. "Awoke" was a strong term, perhaps, given that Castiel didn't actually sleep, but he had been in a deep state of semi-consciousness, listening to the soft rhythm of his lover's breath. Castiel smiled at the label he had given Dean in his mind. The man would object to such a title, he was certain, citing his need to affirm his masculinity, but in his own thoughts Castiel could call Dean what he liked, and he could wait for Dean to label their relationship in his own time. Dean shifted in his sleep, his arm tightening around Castiel's waist, instinctively protective even in unconsciousness. Castiel relished the heat of Dean's body pressed against his back; the puff of the man's breathing on his neck. To know such intimacy with Dean, it was a gift Castiel hadn't dared to pray for. It was a small wonder why he was impatient to fully copulate with his hunter. Every thread of his Grace and cell of his vessel cried out to be one with Dean Winchester, to surround and protect, to fill and penetrate.

_Come to me…_

There it was again. Castiel was alert now, ears straining to hear the deep female voice that had called him twice now. He sent out a wave of Grace, the equivalent of a radar sweep, seeping through the walls of the building. Castiel sensed a hot spot in the main lobby. There was someone in the hotel with them that was not there before. Someone capable of telepathic communication, as the voice seemed to only call to Castiel. Dean remained still, deep in sleep. Silently Castiel disappeared from Dean's arms, reappearing beside the bed, dressed in some of Dean's extra pants he had packed and his own white shirt. Perhaps a silly distance to fly, but it was better to not disturb Dean's sleep. He called his blade from the ether, and felt the cold steel slide into his palm. Castiel still sensed no malevolence from the presence, and if it turned out to be hostile he was more than capable of handling it. There was no supernatural creature that could threaten an Angel and emerge unscathed. Dean would be upset in the morning, perhaps, but Castiel treasured the nights that Dean slept through without nightmares too much to awaken him. Castiel closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he stood in the hotel lobby.

_Ah, que brilla. I have waited for one such as you._

A woman stood in front of him. She was…beautiful. Castiel found all of humanity beautiful, but here he was applying the more vernacular sense of the word. She stood tall and proud, her full figure draped in a blood red gown that began with a high collar and cascaded to her ankles in pools of silky material. Raven's wing hair fell in waves down her shoulders, setting off her ivory skin like the moon in a night sky. Her brown eyes were dark and warm, and she wore a serene smile, as one might give to a beloved child. This woman had been a mother, Castiel had no doubt. She stood, though perhaps stood was the wrong word, for Castiel couldn't see where her bare feet touched the ground, and her long lair seemed to float as if blown by a stiff breeze.

_You have no need of your weapons here, ángel._

For some reason, Castiel found himself agreeing, and his blade faded from sight. His suspicion was muffled, as though wrapped in a large skein of cotton. Which was odd. The woman _flickered_, fading in and out of the visual spectrum too fast for the human eye to see. Castiel could also see now that her skin in life would have been a warm honey color. It was only the moonlight which cast a pale pallor through her translucent form. This was no mortal person.

"You're a ghost." The woman nodded, though her expression cooled somewhat, as if Castiel had said something mildly distasteful. "I didn't sense your presence when we arrived."

_I did not wish for you to know of me. I know what you are. I knew what conclusions you and your beloved would draw._

Castiel frowned. Despite the calm and benevolence that exuded from the spirit, a warning still flared in the back of his mind. Very few creatures, corporeal or no, would have the power to escape the detection of an angel.

"Why do you remain on Earth?" he asked, trying to clear his head. There was a peculiar ringing in his ears that he hadn't noticed until this moment, akin to feedback cutting through a radio station. Where was Dean?

_In life I was strongly connected to the spirit world, and now in death I am imprisoned here, and cannot move on to the next life._

Perhaps she was some kind of medium or clairvoyant, Castiel mused_. _It was entirely possible for a soul too close to the spirits on Earth to have a difficult time reaching Heaven. At least he thought this was the case. Castiel was having an increasingly hard time thinking clearly. Mentally he was becoming distressed, even as his body was overtaken by peaceful aura that emanated from the ghost. Castiel needed to find Dean. Dean would know how to deal with a spirit like this. If only he could move. A pair of cool hands brushed his face, and his gaze was drawn up to meet the beautiful ghost's. Castiel immediately relaxed, as if drugged. The woman spoke, and Castiel could hear her voice, even though her mouth did not move.

_I need you, to escape this prison. Will you help me, shining one?_

"Of course," Castiel heard himself answer, even as he tried to escape the ghost's hold, "But you must tell me what-"

Suddenly the gentle grip on his face became like a vice, and the mysterious woman smiled, dark and predatory. _No more words, ángel. _Her eyes glowed gold and her hands began to burn his flesh.

When the burning reached his Grace, Castiel screamed.

* * *

Dean woke to the sound of his angel's hoarse yell and an empty bed.

"Cas?" Dean called, the gun he had placed under his pillow already cocked in his hand, a lifetime of training guiding his movement. No answer. Dean immediately broke out into a cold sweat. The bed was still warm beside him, so Cas couldn't have been gone more than a few minutes. Tugging on his jeans, Dean did a check of the room, flicking on the light in the small bathroom before slinking out into the hallway. He kept his steps light and his breathing shallow as he looked for Cas. No need to let any enemies know he was coming. Dean didn't hear any sounds as he made his way back to the main room. The entire building was deathly quiet. Dean felt the creep of suspicion up his spine as he noted that there were no lights on, only the eerie blue moonlight pouring in through the glass front doors kept the lobby from being pitch black. Dean swallowed down his fear and kept going, Castiel's shout still fresh in his mind. If anything had laid one goddamned hand on his angel…

Entering the foyer Dean felt a trickle of relief as he saw Cas. He was clad only in a pair of Dean's sweatpants and his open white shirt, standing at the edge of the lobby, back flat to the sheetrock. It looked like despite his screams the angel had managed to scare off whatever had drawn him out of bed. They couldn't have one freakin' night without something worth hunting rearing its ugly head. Dean tucked his gun into his waistband, easily within reach if the thing came back, and crossed the floor to reach Castiel with a relieved smile and no small measure of irritation.

"Dammit Cas, we talked about you wanderin' off without-" Dean stopped his words abruptly. Something was wrong. Cas was…_holding_ himself differently. Shoulders back, chin tucked, fists clenched at his sides. Like he was in pain or something. He hadn't so much as looked up since Dean came in the room, and he was deathly still against the wall. Dean approached carefully, resting a hand on Castiel's shoulder; giving a light shake.

"Cas?...Castiel?" Cas' eyes opened, and it sent Dean stumbling backwards. Instead of the blue eyes that had poured out devotion and trust earlier that evening, Cas revealed orbs of cold burning gold, like lightning deep within a thunderhead.

"You're not Cas." The glowing eyes turned on him without recognition.

"No," Castiel's voice agreed, "I am not."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Rosaura Marianela Venganza," the thing that was not Cas introduced itself, flexing Castiel's hands as if to test them out. Dean swallowed, fingering the gun tucked into the back of his pants. If this was some kind of shape shifter, a silver bullet would at least give him a head start until he could find the real Cas.

"_What_ are you?" Dean began to back away slowly. Venganza tilted her head in a way that was completely unlike the gesture Dean found so endearing.

"A spirit," The woman (Dean could tell from the way it carried Castiel's vessel that is was definitely a woman) answered, "Though, I think since I have entered this body, perhaps I have become something new."

"Get out of him," Dean growled, hiding the edge of panic in his voice. What the hell could possess an angel?

"No," the ghost said bluntly, "I require this angel's servitude. In fact, I require _both_ of you."

Venganza began to move towards Dean with the certainty of a predator, gold eyes glowing cruelly as Dean unloaded six rounds into his angel's body.

* * *

Okay. Okay. Dean was going down here. He knew it was only a matter of time. The silver bullets had done little more than cause the ghost to stumble. Big surprise there. He just had to hope the plan wasn't to kill him, cause there was no way he was outrunning this thing, whatever she was, and even if he could get away, Dean sure as hell wasn't gonna leave Cas here, possessed or no. What he needed was to get a message to Sam. His phone of course had no service, which he now suspected was not a coincidence. Dean could still hear the approaching footsteps of his angel as he threw himself behind the check-in desk.

"You may hide if you wish, hunter," Castiel's voice called across the lobby as the spirit approached leisurely, "It will change nothing."

Dean looked around frantically. He needed a notepad, an old receipt, _anything._ His hands closed around a dry erase marker that had fallen under the desk, and he stared at it in confusion until he spun around, remembering the white board against the wall that listed the restaurant specials.

He scrambled across the lobby, wiping the board clean with his forearm before he began writing, hoping to whoever was in Heaven right now that Sam could find them, and if he did, that he could read Dean's handwriting. In his haste his fingers slipped, sending the marker skittering over the floor. Dean reached for it, only to have a familiar yet alien hand clamp down on the back of his neck.

"You are mine," Venganza purred, before smacking Dean's head against the tile floor, setting off explosions of black and red in his vision. Pain and nausea roiled through him.

"Cas…" Dean tried to call out to his angel, but the body above him only laughed with contempt.

"He hears you," the spirit whispered into his ear, pulling him up from the floor, "And he screams your name in anguish."

She lifted Dean bodily from the floor before throwing him across the large room. Dean heard something crack as he hit the unforgiving plaster wall, and he knew he wasn't getting up by any natural means. As his vision swam he saw Venganza approach him, a glow of power in Castiel's raised hand. Here it comes.

"Fear not," Venganza rumbled, making Cas' rough voice bizarrely feminine, "You will die only at the moment of my choosing. That moment is not now." Two fingers met Dean's forehead and the blackness enveloped him.

* * *

_Stopping off for the night. Hotel on I33. Call you in the morning.-Dean_

That text had been three days ago. Sam threw his duffle into the back of a recently "borrowed" sedan, dialing Dean one last time before he set off after his brother and Cas.

_I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is out of service. Please try again later._

God Damn it. Sam should have known better than to let them go on their own. _It's just a salt and burn_, Dean had insisted, _me and Cas can handle it; you stay here and get your geek on_. Sam had jumped at the chance for some alone time with the Men of Letters library, and now Team Free Will was down to one active member. After everything they'd been through looking for their dad, Dean would know better than to ignore Sam's calls. If Dean wasn't picking up it meant something was wrong, and if something was wrong that a hunter and an Angel of the Lord couldn't handle, than Sam was seriously worried.

_I don't know if you can hear me Cas,_ Sam prayed silently,_ but I'm coming to get you guys._

With a hard jaw and an ominous feeling in his gut, Sam set off for California.


	5. We are all just prisoners here

Sam didn't see so much as sense that he'd found the right place when he spotted the mission style building just off the interstate. The hotel looked completely dark, despite it being about six o'clock, prime check in time. Sam had spent the greater part of the day driving up the highway, stopping at every motel and even the larger houses to ask _Have you seen these two? What about this car?_ Every time he knew before he even asked that the answer would be no, and he quickly moved on. You didn't get to be the second best hunter in the world by ignoring your instincts. So when the small hotel appeared on the horizon and Sam felt that familiar drop in his stomach, he made a beeline. The abandoned Impala in the otherwise empty parking lot only confirmed his suspicions. Dean was here.

Certainty turned to puzzlement as Sam stepped cautiously into the building, salt rounds loaded in his gun and Ruby's knife in his belt. The place was abandoned. Recently. The interior looked modern and neatly kept, no different than thousands of hotels across the country. An experimental flick of a light switch proved the electricity was still on, but Sam didn't hear any of the usual mechanical sounds that came with running a large building. No television from behind any of the closed doors, no refrigerator humming despite the attached restaurant, no human voices. The check in desk was empty but for an unplugged computer and an unmarked desk calendar. Sam ran a hand along the dark wooden desk. No dust. Unlocked doors, no people, no power, and no signs of disrepair. Sam was certain Dean and Cas had been here, but there were no signs of recent struggle, and a quick sweep of the dozen or so rooms down the hall confirmed the lack of guests or staff. No signs of demon activity, to clean for angels, _way_ too clean for monsters. This was creepy, and not a clue in sight.

Sam was about to step back outside and regroup, when he caught sight of a familiar scribble of handwriting. A dry erase board, something that would list restaurant specials, lay against the plaster wall, in the shadow of the reception desk. Finally, something to work with. Sam stepped closer, now definitively recognizing Dean's hurried scrawl.

_Angels in the outfield._ _Vengeful spirit. Possessed Cas. R. M. Venganza. _

_Angels in the outfield._ Shit. Sam didn't even need the rest of the message for the panic to start fluttering in his gut. That was Dean's emergency codeword. It meant that Cas was down for the count and Dean wasn't far behind. _Vengeful spirit._ Okay, simple enough. _Possessed Cas._ Not simple. At all. Sam was under the firm impression that angels couldn't get possessed. That had been the one thing they hadn't had to worry about. Not anymore. He wouldn't have ever mentioned it in front of Castiel, but Sam had seen the damage that could be done by an angel with _good_ intentions. A vengeful spirit with all the power of an angel? Bad news was putting it lightly. _R.M. Venganza._ A name probably. A solid lead. Sam took a deep breath. Research. This he could handle. He just had to think methodically, like with any other case. Dean was counting on him to keep a clear head.

Sam left the ominous hotel, dropping back into the driver's seat of his borrowed car.

"Alright R. ," Sam muttered to himself as he flipped open his laptop, "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

_ ghost/R/search_99_

_no results found_

_ Venganza/search_99_

_3 results found_

_CHUPACAPRA SIGHTING AT __VENGAZA__ GORGE__…_

_ CALIFORNIA MEDIUMS R-Z: __VENGANZA__, ROSAURA M. …_

_ESTEBAN __VENGANZA__, OCCULT COLLECTIBLE S ETC…_

_ROSAURA MARIANELA VENGANZA _

_Birth: late 1800's exact date unknown_

_Death: Early 20__th__ Century. Exact date unknown_

_Claimed psychic abilities: Telepathy, hypnosis_

_Information of note: Known mainly from journals and logs from locals of Southern California, Rosaura Marianela Venganza was one of the last recorded mediums before the population explosion of the early nineteen hundreds and the fall of the occult from the popular eye. Witness accounts describe Venganza as beautiful, mysterious, and impossible to lie to. An innkeeper in her village of residence (name unknown, poss. demolished in the Industrial boom of the early 1900s) patrons of Venganza's establishment often found themselves compelled to reveal past secrets and betrayals. Eventually Venganza's talents became relatively well known, and her restaurant frequented by wives looking to see if their spouses were being unfaithful, and businessmen looking to see if they were being taken advantage of by their partners. Later in life Venganza became known locally for her ability to commune with spirits, and séances were not unheard of in the back rooms of her business. Details of her death are unknown, though it is rumored to have been at a relatively young age, no older than forty, and likely violently, as was not uncommon given the fickle relationship between those who dealt in the occult and their usually highly religious and superstitious customers._

_One specific patron of Venganza left behind a journal detailing his encounter, after which he claimed to have been compelled to…_

Sam read on, skimming the surprisingly lengthy article. Sites like this were usually about ninety percent urban legend and ten percent hysteria, but a lot of the details were lining up. If this R.M. Venganza had died violently and come back a ghost, between her supposed abilities and her need for revenge she would be a prime candidate for vengeful spirit territory. The geography was just vague enough to be a match, and if she owned an inn back in the day, why not move to another one when the old one was destroyed? It was making sense, not that it made Sam feel much better. He stared at the grainy sepia toned photograph that accompanied the article. She was beautiful, but something in her eyes told Sam she wasn't someone you crossed, and she probably hadn't gotten friendlier in death.

"You rang?"

Sam jumped in his seat as Gabriel appeared out of thin air. He casually unwrapped a candy bar, tossing the wrapper into the backseat as Sam got his heart under control. Sam got why Dean had always freaked when Cas showed up like that.

"Earth to Winchester," Gabriel chirped, rapping on Sam's forehead around a mouth full of snicker's, "You called, I answered. What's up?"

"Dude," Sam said at last, "I prayed to you like two days ago. Where have you been?"

"Oh _I'm_ sorry," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes, "I've been a little busy tearing Heaven's infrastructure down to studs. Sorry I couldn't jump to a summons from my favorite pair of monkeys and their angel sidekick. Come to think of it, where is the rest of your little supernatural boy band?"

"That's why I'm calling you," Sam gritted out, "Dean and Cas are missing."

Gabriel paused with a frown, tilting his head as if listening very carefully.

"You are correct," he agreed, "They're not here."

"I already knew that."

"No, I mean they're not _here,_" Gabriel corrected him, "On the earthly spectrum."

"What the hell is _that _supposed to mean?" Sam demanded.

"It means our brothers have gotten themselves into some serious shit." That at least they could agree on.

"I'll say," Sam affirmed, "Dean left me a message, Roanoke style. He used his and Cas' SOS codeword." He showed Gabriel the rest of the note Dean has left, as well as the research he'd managed on Rosaura Venganza. Gabriel's expression grew more grim as he absorbed the information, skimming the long article in seconds.

"This isn't good."

"How in the hell does a ghost _possess_ an angel?" Sam asked, at which Gabriel scowled.

"It's not supposed to be possible. I've sure as hell never heard of it," Gabriel told him, "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless this Venganza woman was really telepathic, like it says," Gabriel continued, "It's _possible_, and this is a leap here, but it's possible that she could have used her psychic whammy to somehow enthrall Castiel's vessel, which would weaken his Grace's hold just enough for her to take control. Castiel would still be there, basically stuck as a celestial battery while Venganza pulls all the strings. It's pretty impressive, actually. You'd have to be a ghost/empath to pull it off."

"I'm not sure 'impressed' is the right attitude to have right now," Sam suggested with an eye roll, "How do we stop it?"

"The more important question," Gabriel corrected him, "Is where the hell are they?"

Gabriel looked quizzically at the mysteriously abandoned hotel before disappearing. Sam nearly dropped his computer, then sighed in frustration as the archangel reappeared in the doorway of the white stucco building, examining the doorframe with scientific concentration.

"Thanks for the warning!" Sam huffed as he got out of the car to join Gabriel at the hotel's entrance.

"Sorry," Gabriel retorted, sounding not sorry at all, "I forgot I needed your _permission_ to move ten yards to the right."

"Jesus, you're worse than Cas."

"I'll be sure to tell him that once I find him for you." Sam swallowed his biting response. Gabriel was right. This was serious business. Gabriel ran his hand up and down the aluminum doorframe.

"Well shit," Gabriel murmured.

"What is it?" Sam asked, "Hidden sigils?"

"No. It reminds me of…well, me," Gabriel said at last, looking surprised, "There's a seam here to a pocket reality. Like the kind of pop up space I used to set up to pull off tricks." Gabriel walked further into the hotel, Sam following.

"So are we in the other reality now?" Sam asked.

"Nope. I guess you could say we're walking past it, but I am not the guy to have a terminology debate with," Gabriel continued, hands out in front of him as though feeling for furniture in the dark.

"This is all pretty subtle for a vengeful spirit," Sam mused, "I didn't really think they were capable of thinking this clearly."

"Unless you're shady internet research is correct," Gabriel said, continuing through the lobby, "In which case Venganza spent most of her life chillin' with peeps from beyond the grave. It's like she went into the afterlife with the ghostly equivalent of a PhD in how to manipulate the spirit world."

"So Dean and Cas probably walked right into a trap. Great. …What are you doing anyway?" Sam asked, still a little unclear on the whole "pocket dimension" concept.

"Well now that I know what I'm dealing with I think I can find-" Gabriel stopped suddenly, "Gotcha."

"What?"

"Dean. He's right there," Gabriel said, "Well, right there and one dimension to the left. You get the idea." Sam reached out, half expecting his hand to land on an invisible Dean, but of course it simply touched empty air.

"Can you tell if he's alright?" Sam asked, "Can you feel Cas?"

"His soul's still attached to his body," Gabriel said, wrinkling his nose, "So I'd say alive, and Cas…" Gabriel closed his eyes, and Sam could tell he was going by the touch of his Grace now, looking for his brother.

"He's there," Gabriel said after a moment, "He's dampened by something. The ghost, I assume. It's like trying to get cell reception from under a lead blanket."

"Then we'd better get them out," Sam said firmly.

* * *

Dean awoke slowly, dazed. His head was fucking _killing_ him. He and Cas must have had a crazier night than he remembered. Still trying to pull his thoughts together, Dean spotted his angel across the room, drawing something on the floor. What was he up to?

"Hey, Cas…" Dean started, smiling before Cas turned around and the events of the previous night came crashing back to him. That wasn't Cas, and Dean wasn't hung over, he was most likely concussed, not to mention tied to a chair in the hotel lobby, as he discovered when he tried to stand.

"What the hell," Dean grumbled, straining his wrists against the painfully tight knots. Was this ghost in the freakin' Navy or something?

"You're awake," Castiel's voice pulled Dean's attention back to the ghost, "Good."

"Let him go," Dean ordered immediately, his own predicament forgotten, "Cas, I know you're in there! We're gonna beat this freak together, you hear me?" The spirit ignored him, bending back down to finish whatever she had been drawing on the floor. Dean noticed then the white lines and sigils that covered most of the tiled lobby, radiating out from where he was bound. It all smacked a bit too much of ritual sacrifice for Dean's liking. He became engrossed in trying to decipher the symbols, and he jumped when the ghost spoke again, this time right in his ear.

"Ah, _mi corazón_, you are quite beautiful," Venganza purred, tracing a warm hand along Dean's jaw, "But I would expect it to be so, if you were able to tempt an angel down from Heaven for love of you."

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean spat, recoiling from the spirit's burning caress.

"Does my hand not bring you comfort?" Venganza asked, raising Castiel's hands in illustration, "This body brought you great joy last evening as you danced, and as you made love in the darkness."

Dean flinched as the ghost laid bare all of their previous night's activities, swallowing down bile to think she might have been observing their most intimate moments.

"You are not Castiel," Dean growled, fighting his bonds, though he knew it was useless. Cas' face contorted into a cruel smirk.

"Struggle if you wish," Venganza laughed, "If you escape, where shall you run? If rescue comes, how will they find you? You are in my world now."

"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded. A sick anxiety built in his gut at the triumph in the spirit's expression.

"Foolish boy, you departed from the mortal plane the moment you entered this hotel," Venganza informed him, mocking him with Cas' rough voice, "When I took possession of this angelic vessel I divided the two planes even further. You are not on Earth anymore, and there will be no return for you, you have my word."

"What do you want him for?" Dean asked, trying to find something of Cas in this monster.

"Do I need an excuse to want power?" The ghost countered.

"There's always a nefarious plot," Dean said with a humorless smirk.

"Perhaps," Venganza agreed, reaching into Castiel's waistband to pull out a familiar hunting knife.

"Hey! That's my knife!" Dean cried indignantly. No way he was gonna get ritual sacrificed with his own freakin' blade.

"Yes, it is," the spirit agreed, testing the sharpness of the steel.

"Let me tell you something," Venganza continued, "A little tale of my past."

"Great, story time." Dean rolled his eyes, but the ghost continued, ignoring him.

"I was born with a gift. I could see people's thoughts. Eventually I could put new thoughts where I wanted them. Suggestions. Compulsions," Venganza admitted, "I did my best to use this gift for good. I tried to help people, perhaps occasionally also helping myself, but regardless. Do you know how I was repaid?"

"I'm guessing not with a fruit basket."

"With death. One philanderer enraged when he found out how his wife knew he was a cheating dog, and I found myself watching as my body was burned in the empty desert like so much trash." Venganza's eyes, already burning, filled with seething anger. Dean tried to draw away from the heat coming off of Cas' skin.

"And I thought," the spirit continued, "Ah well, at least it is finished, and now I can be done with this world and it's selfish people. But instead of being rewarded for my years of service, I am trapped, a wandering spirit, bound to the astral plane. I am angry, but what is to be done? Nothing. So I drift, and I wait, for one hundred years. Then I feel things begin to shift. I hear things. 'The Apocalypse is coming'. And then it does not. I hear this a few times."

"You're welcome," Dean grumbled, but Venganza is telling her story.

"Nothing ever comes of these prophecies, but still I think to myself, 'Things are changing, Rosaura, and you should be ready.' And what is it for me to compel a mortal or two, to prepare my new inn, to give it just the touch of magnetism for the right kind of guest? It is nothing. And so I make my plan, and I wait for the perfect host. I cannot leave this world, but I had faith that if I made the entrance pretty enough, the right person would walk into my realm willingly."

"Which is of course exactly what Cas and I did," Dean muttered. God damn it. "And Cas knew something was off and I didn't pay it any attention." _Stupid_.

"Indeed, your angel was determined to notice me," the ghost agreed, "It was a very delicate game, keeping him docile, but not to arouse your suspicions. Though you proved the most effective distraction of all. I should thank you."

"Let me out of this chair and I'll show you how welcome you are," Dean promised, anger overriding his embarrassment.

"I hardly think you could harm me in this body," Venganza smiled, "Really it is the ideal host. With my abilities and your lover's raw power, there will be very few obstacles. It's a shame you won't get to see my work, but breaking out of this dimension requires a sacrifice, and I'm afraid that duty falls to you."

_I fucking _knew_ it_, Dean thought to himself. He really hoped Sam caught up to them soon, because Dean being a blood sacrifice and Castiel laying waste to the earth on the mission of a vengeful ghost were definitely not in his top five.

"What do you even get out of this whole deal?" Dean fished, trying to stall for time now, "It's not like you can get revenge on your murderer. What do you want?"

"Simple things, _mi corazón_," Venganza assured him, a dreamy expression falling over Cas' possessed face, "Freedom. Mobility. The blood of all who oppose me flowing freely through the desert sands."

The ghost began to circle the room, casually slicing open Castiel's palm with Dean's knife, placing blood sigils at various points of the walls and floor, humming merrily all the while.

Shit. Dean was going to die. He was going to die at the hand of his own possessed angel boyfriend because of some psychotic telepathic ghost, and he hadn't even gotten the chance to go all the way with said angel boyfriend. Dean was beginning to deeply regret being so apprehensive about taking it up the ass.

* * *

"No way Jose," Gabriel said shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?" Sam demanded, "We have to get them out of there!"

"I don't think so," Gabriel retorted, "I merge these dimensions back together, this Venganza woman walks away wearing Castiel like a well tailored suit. You wanna be the guy who let a pissed off ghost with all the powers of Heaven loose on the general populace? Cause I sure as hell don't."

Damn it. Gabe was right. Getting out was probably the reason the spirit possessed Cas in the first place. Sam ran a distracted hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before another idea occurred to him.

"You can't pull them out," Sam agreed, "Could you get us in?"

Gabriel considered his words carefully.

"I could get _you_ in," he said finally, "But you'd be on your own."

"You wouldn't come with me?"

"If that ghost took down Dean Winchester and created a pocket dimension of reality wearing Castiel," Gabriel said flatly, "Do you even want to think about what she could do if she got under my skin?"

"But you're an archangel," Sam argued.

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed, "With the firepower to nuke the continent should I say...I don't know…get possessed by a psychic ghost. Come on, Winchester, you're supposed to be the smart one."

"Okay, fine. Send me," Sam ordered, considering what he would need to take with him, he had Ruby's knife, and a sawed off full of salt rounds. What else did you take to fight off a ghost/angel? Sam heard the clink of metal, and when he looked up, Gabriel was holding out an angel blade, handle first, for Sam to take. It gleamed dangerously in the space between them.

"That will hurt Cas," Sam objected, brow furrowed.

"Then be careful with it," Gabriel told him.

"Dean would die before he let me use an angel blade on Castiel," Sam said, taking a step backwards.

"They could both die if you don't," Gabriel insisted, "I'm not telling you to kill my brother. The blade would purge the spirit from his Grace, and after I pulled you out I could heal him."

Sam nodded, taking the blade from Gabriel's hand. He rebelled at the idea of harming Cas, but if it saved their lives he would handle it.

"Alright," he said with a deep breath, "Zap me in."

Gabriel raised his hand, looking at Sam with serious gold eyes.

"Be careful," he warned, and Sam nodded. Gabriel snapped his fingers and Sam's sight went dark.


	6. stab it with their steely knives

"Thank fucking God." Well. Dean was alive anyway. Sam opened his eyes to the familiar sight of the hotel lobby, albeit this time instead of an irritating archangel this time it contained his brother, tied to a chair and surrounded by a crap ton of chalk and blood sigils.

"Dean!" Sam ran to his brother, trying to loosen the bindings on Dean's wrists, examining him for any serious injury. "Are you okay? Where's Cas? Is the ghost-"

"I'm alright Sammy," Dean told him, "Thought I might have a concussion, and my back is gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning."

"Venganza-"

"She stepped out," Dean grunted, "I guess she took Cas for a stroll. How'd you get in?"

"Gabriel." Dean didn't really look pleased at the archangel's interference, but Sam was willing to put up with the snark if he saved their asses and kept the world from ending.

"You got here fast," Dean commented, "Less than twelve hours from Kansas to California? Gotta be some kind of record. Not that I'm complaining."

Sam paused to look at Dean in concern. "Dean, you and Cas have been gone for three days."

Dean looked puzzled for a minute, before scowling. "Goddamn ghost dimensions," he grumbled, "At least that explains how that thing had enough time to draw all these sigils."

"Yeah, no kidding," Sam agreed, "What are all these symbols even for?"

"She's tryin' to break out of the spirit world," Dean summarized, "She got stuck here 'cause of her psychic powers or somethin'. Looks like she picked up a few spells in the last hundred years and she's just gonna throw them all at the wall and hope something sticks. Including human sacrifice by the looks of things."

"And she actually possessed Cas?" Dean looked positively pained at the mention of his angel's name.

"Yeah, she's got him," he muttered, "She won't quit gloating about it either."

"Did she say anything about how she died?" Sam asked urgently, "Any way to find out where she was buried? I can get a message to Gabe and he can take care of it."

Dean shook his head resignedly. "She was burned. Some schmuck took her out and lit her up in the middle of the desert."

"She wouldn't have been buried then, even if there were remains," Sam shook his head, pulling the angel blade from his jacket, "Plan B then."

"What in the hell is _that_ for?" Dean asked, dangerously quiet. Sam hesitated.

"It's…plan B," he admitted finally.

"No," Dean said flatly.

"Dean-"

"Sam, you're my brother and I love you," Dean overrode Sam's words, "But if you use that on Cas I'm gonna break every bone in your body."

"It's not Cas," Sam said firmly, "If it was we wouldn't be in this mess."

"He's in there," Dean whispered, "And he's in pain. She's _hurting_ him. He's counting on us to save him, and I won't sacrifice him to save my own skin. That's not how we do things."

"Gabriel's outside," Sam told him, "It's his plan. He says the blade will burn the ghost out, and then he can heal Cas." Dean still looked doubtful.

"C'mon Dean," Sam huffed, "Gabriel didn't send me in here so I could kill his brother. He cares about Cas."

"He doesn't even _know_ Cas."

"He probably likes Cas better than he likes you," Sam countered, and Dean had to give a wry grin. Gabriel wouldn't pick a Winchester over Cas, that was for sure.

"You got me there," Dean admitted, then, resigning himself, "Okay. I don't like it, but it's the best plan we've got. Cas or no Cas we can't have this Venganza woman going on any world tours."

"Right," Sam agreed, "Let me get you out of this-"

"No." Dean cut him off.

"Dean, I'm not gonna leave you here."

"Yeah you are," Dean ordered him, "You're gonna leave me here, and make yourself scarce. She doesn't know you're even here. Wait it out, let her get going on some villainous monologue, believe me she's the type, then make your move." Sam didn't like it, but it made sense. He sighed. Dean was always too eager to offer himself up as bait.

"Okay," Sam continued, "But no matter what happens, don't stop trying to get Cas to wake up. Gabriel says it's nearly impossible for a spirit to put a leash on an angel so she's gotta be holding onto Cas by a thread." Dean didn't respond. His eyes were focused just over Sam's shoulder, full of pain.

"You know," a terribly familiar voice spoke from behind Sam, "I am inhabiting a celestial being. I can hear everything you're saying." Sam didn't have to see the nausea on Dean's face to know that they were royally screwed. Fortunately he had the instincts to relax, letting the tension fall from his body before he felt himself being thrown backwards into the unforgiving plaster wall, otherwise he probably would have broken something. As it was, he was jolted enough to get the wind knocked out of him, the angel blade bouncing as it hit the floor. Castiel-_Venganza_, Sam thought fiercely to himself. Even ignoring the cold burning light in Cas' gaze, anyone could see that their friend was not currently at the wheel. Venganza looked at Sam curiously, holding him in place with mojo.

"Now where did _you_ come from?" she mused, "I step out for a moment and suddenly my man has multiplied." A flick of Castiel's wrist and metal pipes, probably from hidden plumbing, burst from the wall to wrap around Sam's wrists, suspending him against the wall. Sam wished he could say this was the first time anyone had chained him to the wall by his wrists. He glared defiantly as the ghost approached him.

"Cas!" Dean cried, "Don't hurt him! Come on Cas, wake up!"

"Have no fear," Venganza purred, "I am feeling merciful."

"I wasn't talking to you," Dean snapped. The ghost possessing Castiel sighed.

"Regardless," She continued, still looking at Sam, "You shall bear witness to my liberation. Then I shall figure out how you managed to enter this plane, and take that power as well."

"You'll never get away with it," Sam insisted, "Cas, I know you're there. Don't stop fighting."

"You are both beginning to irritate me with your pleading," Venganza muttered, "Luckily my preparations are complete, and all I need is the sacrifice."

"What sacrifice?" Sam asked, though given that Dean was currently tied to a chair in a circle of chalk runes, he didn't really have to guess. Venganza pulled Dean's hunting knife from Castiel's belt.

"I need the life blood of a human," she said, with unsettling enthusiasm, "I rather enjoyed the poetic symmetry of killing my host's lover. It seemed very _passionate_." Sam's thoughts scrambled as she turned and approached Dean, stepping carefully over the intricately drawn sigils on the floor. He wrenched his arms against his restraints, calling out to his brother, who was trying to move as far back in his chair as his bindings would allow, away from his angel's deadly approach.

"Don't you touch him!" Sam shouted, "Cas! Fight, man! She's gonna cut his fucking throat!"

Sam thought he caught a twitch in the ghost's movement, and he felt a bolt of hope until Venganza turned around, and with an irritable gesture, cut Sam's voice off sharply.

"Bitch," Dean snarled, "What did you do to him? Let him go! Let them both go. Cas!"

Venganza took a fist full of Dean's hair and yanked, exposing his throat as Dean gasped and choked at the uncomfortable position. Sam cried out, though no sound emerged, his arms aching from bearing his weight. The blade glinted in Castiel's hand as Venganza prepared to complete her spell. Dean's eyes were closed, and his pulse fluttered in his neck.

"C'mon Cas," Dean begged, half laughing as Venganza drew his knife ever closer to his throat, "How many times do we have to do this before they'll leave us alone? We've been through all this before. I know you won't let this psychopath kill me. I know you won't. _Castiel_." Dean's voice dropped to a whisper, and Sam watched in horror as Venganza set the tip of the blade against his brother's throat.

* * *

Dean was in his happy place. He would be a lot happier of course if Castiel's hand wasn't pressing a knife into his neck, but that wasn't really in his control right now, and on the off chance that Cas could still read his mind, his last thoughts weren't gonna be about the thin line of blood that was beading along the razor sharp edge of his knife. No, if Dean Winchester was leaving this world it was gonna be on a good memory, one that involved Cas' skin under his hands and a staticky radio station humming in the background.

_Careful. You know I can't stop you if you aren't careful._

_Apologies. _

_Nothin' to apologize for, Cas. _

"Dean?" That wasn't part of the script, Dean thought to himself.

"_Dean._" Wait a second…

Dean looked up in shock to see Castiel's blue eyes staring down at him, widened in horror. The knife in his hand clattered to the floor, and Dean gasped as the pressure was relieved from his throat. Cas' body seized, his back arching sharply as gold fire coursed down his cheeks like tears. Venganza wasn't gonna let go of her meal ticket without a fight.

"Cas, hold on!" Dean shouted as Castiel battled for control of his own vessel. The angel fell to his knees, but Dean watched as he raised his right hand, agonizingly slow, as if every second cost him. It fell to the floor with a crash, which Dean realized was actually the sound of Sam's bonds breaking. Sam scrambled to his feet, grabbing the angel blade where it lay on the tile.

"Sam! Do it! Do it now!" Cas cried, eyes never leaving Dean's as he convulsed on the ground. The dark blue was fading back away to cold yellow. Castiel was weakening, and Dean cried out, struggling against the ropes that tied him down.

"Don't you leave me Cas, keep fighting! We're gonna save you," he promised as Cas fought Venganza's possession. Castiel stilled, then his head shot up to lock on Dean with murderous flaming eyes.

"For that the angel will watch you suffer!" The spirit shrieked, rising just as Sam raised the angel blade behind her back.

"Now Sam!" Dean shouted, and Venganza turned as Sam brought the steel down for all he was worth. Dean shuddered as he watched the blade sink into his angel's chest, fighting a wave of nausea as Venganza screamed with Castiel's voice. They could save him, they could save him, they could save him, he repeated fiercely over and over as Sam yanked out the angel blade and Rosaura Marianela Venganza's ghost burned out of Cas' body. Dean shut his eyes just in time as Cas practically exploded in a ball of light, the bright blue of his Grace nearly indistinguishable from the angry gold of Venganza's soul. Dean did his best to protect his eyes and brace himself against the now shaking floors, the force of Castiel's exorcism too much for the pocket reality to handle. A bizarre hum filled the air, but Dean could hear his brother shouting.

"_Gabriel_! I've got them! Pull us out! Pull us out!"

The noise increased, and Dean's senses were overloaded as he dropped into blackness. The last thing he could remember seeing was Cas, twitching on the ground with a hole in his chest.


	7. the passage back

**Author's note: Hello my readers! I know we don't get to chat much, but thank you so much for all your feedback! This is technically the last chapter, but of course what's a God Ships Destiel story without a bonus epilogue? Stay tuned ;)**

* * *

Castiel was floating, caught somewhere between alive and dead, conscious and unconscious. The last thing he remembers is seeing Dean, with a shallow cut on his neck but blessedly alive. So that was good. Castiel tried to focus, but everything was fuzzy, and his Grace was unsettled in his vessel, as though checking for any remaining contaminants. He wished it would settle down so he could see and hear properly. Voices were beginning to emerge from the static, some old conversations and some new. Perhaps his life was flashing before his eyes. A few voices were sharper, perhaps that was what he should concentrate on.

"What did you_ do_, you moron?" Castiel heard his brother's voice. He didn't like the panic he heard in it, but it was nice to hear regardless. He had so little angelic family left that didn't want him dead.

"You said it would burn out the ghost, Gabriel!" And there was Sam. Castiel remembered then the angel blade Sam had been forced to stab him with. While the wound in his chest was uncomfortable, Castiel was grateful. He knew the choice had been difficult for his friend.

"A freakin' papercut would have done the job just fine!" Yes, that was true.

"You said you could fix him, now fix him!" Dean. Dean was here. Castiel did his best to relax. Even in semi-consciousness he could feel Gabriel's power burning like a small sun. He trusted his brother. He trusted Dean.

"Outta my way Dean, I'm doing my best, now _move." _ Dean should really listen to Gabriel.

"Cas! Cas, don't you dare clock out on me. I need you here." I need you too, Castiel thought to himself.

"_Get out of the way Dean._" A cool stream of power poured into Castiel's chest, and he felt his Grace begin to settle.

* * *

Cas was asleep. Dean didn't like it. Gabriel had said he was gonna be fine, his system was just rebooting or some shit, but the fact was that Castiel, Angel of the Lord was cradled in Dean's arms in the back seat of the Impala, unconscious. Dean kept a hand against Cas' heartbeat, letting the steady rhythm calm him as the leftover adrenaline faded from his bloodstream. Cas was gonna be okay. Sam was okay. They were going home.

"Cas I swear to God when you wake up we're fucking until it registers on the goddamn Richter scale," Dean whispered as he buried his face in Castiel's hair, chest aching with relief.

"If that was meant as an enticement for me to regain consciousness, it was very effective." Dean looked down, and sure enough, there was a pair of bright blue eyes looking back, tired but alive, with not a gold flame in sight.

"Hey," Dean breathed, all the air suddenly gone from his lungs.

"Hello Dean." Castiel smiled, and Dean suddenly got something in his eye, because he sure as hell wasn't crying.

"You scared the fuck outta me, man," he said gruffly, "Going off by yourself and getting possessed. It's like you never listened to a damn thing I taught you."

"My apologies," Cas offered. Dean responded by kissing him soundly. A subtle throat clearing from Sam in the driver's seat did little to lessen Dean's enthusiasm, but he toned it down for the sake of his little brother's mental health. As it was Dean had probably been a little rough when he handed Sam the keys, daring him to comment as he piled into the back seat with his angel.

"I hope you two realize I am never letting you go on a hunt by yourselves again," Sam said over his shoulder, "Clearly you weren't ready."

"Aw shut up Sammy, we had a handle on things."

"Oh so _that's _what that was. And here I thought you were tied to a chair about to be ritual sacrificed. Glad you're back, by the way Cas."

"Thank you Sam," Castiel said, "I'm glad I didn't do either of you any permanent damage."

"Nah, we knew it wasn't really you. Sorry about the angel blade in your chest," Sam said sheepishly.

"It's alright," Cas assured him, "It was for my own benefit. Though perhaps a shoulder hit would be preferable in the future."

"Yeah we ganked the bitch in the end, that's all that matters." Dean was surprised to see Cas glare at him with mild reproach.

"You shouldn't use offensive terms like that," Cas chided him softly. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Cas, it was a murdering fucking ghost. It almost _killed_ you. I'm not gonna feel guilty for calling it names."

"True, but there is no need to insult its femininity. We hunted this creature because she'd intended to kill innocents, not because she was female."

Dean looked at Sam, expecting backup, only to see his brother shrug and nod in agreement.

"He's got a point," Sam told him. Dean scowled.

"Alright. Just get us home," he grumbled.

* * *

Castiel rested comfortably against Dean's chest as the thrum of the moving vehicle they were encased in massaged his vessel pleasantly. He cracked one eye open when he heard his brother's voice, but it became apparent that Gabriel was speaking mind to mind.

_How ya holdin' up Castiel?_

_I am well Gabriel. Thank you for your help._

_No big, bro. Don't get used to it._

_I don't think I ever will._

_Yeah well…this isn't just a check up call. We need to talk about what happened back there._

Castiel shifted minutely against Dean, brow furrowed.

_What do you mean?_

_You were _possessed_. Telepath or no, I felt her burn out, and she shouldn't have been strong enough to get all up in a full powered angel._

_Are you saying-_

_I'm saying I think you've been away from Heaven too long. _

_I am… Falling?_

_Not yet, as far as I can tell. But I'm no expert. It'd probably be a good idea to pop upstairs and have somebody take a look-_

_No. …I don't wish to return to Heaven. I have made my choice, brother. You know why._

_I do. Just know what you're signing up for. Make sure _he _knows. _

_I will. Thank you Gabriel._

"Everything okay?" Castiel started, and realized Dean was looking down at him in concern. Castiel took a deep breath, releasing the tension Gabriel's words had put in his body, loosening the iron grip he had on Dean's t-shirt.

"Everything is fine," he assured his lover, "Just lost in thought."

"Okay," Dean eyed his brother in the driver's seat, making sure his attention was on the road before he spoke to Castiel again, more quietly, "I meant what I said earlier."

Castiel looked at Dean uncertainly, before he understood. _We're fucking till it registers on the goddamned Richter scale._

"Oh." Castiel tried to keep his voice light, but his hands betrayed him, tightening their grip on Dean once more.

"Yeah," Dean breathed, "I mean, you know, if _you_ still want to-"

"Yes!" Cas said, then calming himself, "Yes, I do. But only if you're sure you're ready. I can wait as long as you need." Dean laughed, and Castiel relaxed, knowing that was what Dean had needed to hear.

"When we get home," Dean continued, "Let me do a little research; wrap my head around the mechanics. Then…we'll take it from there. Alright?"

"Yes," Castiel affirmed, tracing the strong edge of Dean's jaw with a tired hand, "Perfect."

He let his hand rest back against Dean's chest and closed his eyes, content. Gabriel's words seemed a distant echo in his mind. Perhaps he was Falling, too slow to trace. So be it. He had a family here on Earth as well. Dean's arms tightened around his shoulders, and Castiel let himself rest as they trundled back to Lebanon.


	8. Bonus: Landslide part 1

**Author's note**: Whew, it's been a long wait! This is part one of two of "Hotel California"'s bonus epilogue. Dean's ready for the next step, and Castiel wants it to be perfect. Enjoy!

* * *

"Dean, this trip is unnecessary. I could have easily procured the supplies we required-"

"It was a five minute drive you big baby. Besides, there's a whole rack of this stuff and with my luck you would have grabbed the first tube you laid eyes on and it would be banana flavored or some weird shit."

"I am more than capable of selecting an appropriate brand of lubri-"

"Damn it Cas, if it's going inside me I want a say in what it's going to goddamn smell like!"

"…I-I didn't realize you were intending to-"

"Well I am, ok? So shut up and let me figure this out."

"…of course. I'll go investigate the prophylactics."

"Okay. None of that ribbed crap. I hate those things."

"I will…do my best."

"'Kay. I'll be there in a second."

* * *

Dean was getting anxious. Castiel didn't need to be a fully powered Angel of Lord to see the tension in Dean's shoulders, or the edge of white to his knuckles where he gripped the steering wheel. Castiel moved to comfort him and in doing so rustled the plastic bag containing their recently purchased supplies. Dean practically flinched. Castiel decided that this wouldn't do. If he was penetrating Dean tonight the hunter was going to be relaxed and eager, or Castiel wanted no part of it. He spent a few precious moments considering how to best east the nerves Dean was clearly suffering from, before the Universe provided him with the perfect solution. A mere two hundred yards from the bunker, the Impala hit an unseen pothole, and Dean swore, eyes alight with concern for what Castiel understood Dean considered his "baby". With an invisible flick of Grace, Castiel reached into the Impala's complicated mechanisms, searching quickly for something nonessential that he could loosen. There. By the time the Impala had resettled from the jolt Castiel had worked the small gear free from its place, resulting in a harmless but very audible rattling from within the Impala's workings.

"Shit," Dean cursed, "Can you hear that?"

"Yes," Castiel concurred, "Though I have very sensitive hearing."

"Damned bump must've knocked somethin' loose," Dean muttered as they pulled up to the entrance to their underground home.

"Do you want to take a look at…'her'?" Castiel asked, using Dean's preferred pronoun for his vehicle.

"No, no, it's okay," Dean said quickly as they pulled to a stop, "We've got other-I mean I know you want-" Castiel stopped him with a hand on his thigh.

"This is important," he said quietly, "We should look into it. You can show me, and then next time I'll be able to assist."

"Yeah," Dean agreed hesitantly, thoughts clearly already on the Impala's innards, "Yeah okay. I'll go get the toolbox."

"Excellent. I'll wait here." One didn't live for a millennia without learning a few good distraction techniques.

* * *

If there was a sight in the world more beautiful than Dean Winchester sweaty and covered in motor grease Castiel had yet to see it. Outer layers stripped in the early evening heat, Castiel handed over wrenches and sockets in his shirtsleeves, drinking the golden skin and lean muscle on display as Dean bent over the Impala's engine in only his sleeveless undershirt. Dean was aging gracefully, the hard edges of youth smoothing with the approach of middle age, vitality and maturity encased in a visage that grew more entrancing to Castiel with each new laugh line. He was in his element, solving a simple mystery with a machine Dean probably understood better than most people, and Castiel was happy to be a part of the process. An hour of tightening and adjusting, and Dean was exuding quiet satisfaction as he revved the Impala's engine, her purr even and uninhibited.

Castiel abandoned his perch on the Impala's hood as Dean cut the engine, only to find his hands and much of his backside coated in fine sheen of red dust. He showed Dean as he tossed a dirty rag back in his tool chest.

"California dirt," Dean said, wrinkling his nose as he kicked at the dusty tires. It was a small matter for Castiel to duck into the bunker and find a large bucket and some soft sponges. He emerged armed with soapy water and a wicked grin as he "accidentally" splashed Dean with the first smack of his sponge against the Impala's hood. Dean retaliated mercilessly and it wasn't long before they were both soaked. Between being caught in the crossfire and being the setting for a few sudsy groping sessions, some of the water eventually made it onto the Impala.

"I know what you did here," Dean said, looking over at Castiel dryly as they admired the pristine Impala in the fading light, "What with the car maintenance and the soapy frolicking."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Castiel admonished, his expression carefully neutral. A strong hand on the small of his back and a soft pair of lips against his own melted his reserve, and Castiel found himself smiling into Dean's kiss. He let his hands glide up Dean's sides, reveling in the soft shirt over firm but relaxed muscle, tacky with sweat and grease. Dean pulled Castiel closer into a firm hug.

"Thank you," he murmured into Castiel's thick hair. Castiel simply wound his arms tighter around his lover, utterly content.

"Do you, uh," Dean began as he stepped back, hands still loose around Castiel's waist, "Do you wanna grab the stuff from the car? I'll stash the tools in the closet and meet you in my room in a minute."

Castiel tilted his head to bridge the very small gap between their mouths, quick and light.

"I'll see you then," he agreed.


	9. Time makes you bolder

Dean's room was cool but the light was warm, the lone desk lamp throwing a golden glow over the neutral walls and soft bedding. Castiel tossed their supplies on the bed carelessly before wrapping his arms around his lover, who was surveying the waiting bed with mild trepidation.

"What now?" Castiel inquired, burying his nose in the back of Dean's shirt and breathing in his warm musky scent.

"Well," Dean began, swallowing, his hands tight over Castiel's where they rested on his belly, "First, I'm gonna take every stitch of clothing off you."

Castiel hummed against the back of Dean's neck. "And then you."

"And then me," Dean agreed, his voice growing more confident, "Then I'm gonna kiss you. I'm gonna suck on every inch of skin, until you've got hickeys even an Angel of the Lord can't heal."

Castiel's grip tightened as a current of arousal swelled beneath his navel. He rocked his hardening cock against the curve of Dean's backside, savoring the rough slide of his slacks against Dean's worn denim jeans and the hitch of Dean's breath. "I like this plan," he rumbled as Dean leaned ever so slightly into Castiel's rolling hips, "What next?"

"Next," Dean's voice was a husk, rough and wanting and Castiel found himself short of breath as he waited for the rest of the sentence, "I'm gonna roll over, and you're gonna fuck me."

Castiel couldn't hold back the groan that rumbled through his chest because then Dean was facing him and shoving him back against the door. And he could stop him. If Castiel willed it he would be as immovable as stone under Dean Winchester's hands, as unchangeable as the stars themselves but why would he ever, _how _could he ever want that when instead he could have Dean pressing him into solid oak and removing his shirt button by button with trembling fingers.

Castiel leaned forward for a kiss but Dean shook his head with a playful grin.

"Clothes first, remember?" he whispered as Castiel's tie dropped to the floor. Castiel grunted his impatience, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt, pressing his fingers into the dip of his spine and making Dean shiver invitingly. Dean's hot breath teased him, puffing against his cheek as he was divested of his soggy white shirt, damp in Castiel's ear as he eagerly rucked up his lover's dirty undershirt, a current through his hair as they kicked off their shoes and tugged off socks with impatient hands.

Only after stripping Castiel of his slacks and rising to shuck his jeans eagerly did Dean finally claim Castiel's mouth. It was finding water in the desert and Dean grinned against Castiel's mouth, pleased at Castiel's happy sigh as the teasing came to an end.

Castiel went willingly when Dean bore him down onto their shared bed, mouth hungry and pulse racing. What resistance would he offer when Dean was about to give him everything? He was Wrath, teeth against Castiel's throat and bruising fingers on his hips. Dean was Devotion, his ear pressed to Castiel's heartbeat and arms tight around his waist. Dean was Lust, tongue curling in Castiel's mouth and hands teasing at his cock. He was Tenderness, nose in the soft hair of Castiel's underarms and lips at the pulse in the crook of his elbow. Castiel was lost to all sense of time and place in the face of Dean's affections.

A cool, plastic weight placed on his chest startled him back into sharper awareness, and Castiel examined the bottle of lubricant with momentary confusion, forgetting the necessity of it.

"You still with me, buddy?" He looked to Dean, perched between Castiel's thighs, his hands still tracing possessively over Castiel's ribs and his wicked, _wicked_ mouth only a few spare inches from his navel. Castiel looked back to the bottle in his hands and remembered that there was _more. _There were parts of Dean that he hadn't yet seen, hadn't touched, hadn't _worshipped_ and now that last barrier between them was about to come down. Dean's grin as he watched it all come crashing back to was enough to spur Castiel into action.

His edge of angelic strength was enough for Castiel to flip Dean onto his back, pressing him into the mattress like a lion pinning its playmate. The lubricant, not lost in the tussle, was soon coating his hand, the slick cool and alien against his skin as he massaged it between his fingers. Dean's eyes followed the motion of his hand, then blew wide as Castiel licked the head of his cock, savoring the perfect bead of precome at the tip. Dean's breath was labored as Castiel's hand stole between his cheeks, twitching as his thumb massaged and teased at his rim.

"Cas if you don't put somethin' inside me soon," Dean panted, "I'm gonna miss the party."

That was the moment that Castiel breached him, sliding his first slickened finger in up to the knuckle. Dean practically shouted, his body tensing up around the intrusion, though he quickly forced himself to relax again.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked as Dean grimaced.

"Yeah, just surprised," Dean said. Castiel pushed in further, until the palm of his hand was pressed deep into the crease of Dean's ass.

"Yes," Castiel agreed as Dean flinched, "I planned it that way."

Dean laughed, too aroused for any of his anxiety to return as Castiel slowly worked his index finger in and out of Dean's tight entrance.

"Does that hurt?" Castiel knew that this process would be painful before it was pleasurable for Dean.

"A little," Dean admitted as he adjusted to the new fullness, "But I've got a pretty high threshold."

"I can take away the pain-" Castiel tried to offer, but Dean cut him off.

"No! No…I want to feel it," Dean huffed, taking shallow breaths, "Keep going."

Castiel obeyed. At the same time, he began to lay a track of open kissed up Dean's abdomen, his free hand giving Dean's taut erection a few loose pulls. Dean practically purred underneath him, though it turned to a rumbling groan when Castiel latched his mouth onto his lover's nipple.

"_Jesus_ Cas, right there," Dean cried, hands flying down to work themselves deep into Castiel's hair, the tight grip sending a spike of pleasure to his groin. Castiel bit down gently, massaging the hard nub of flesh between his teeth before lathing over it with his tongue. He felt Dean tighten around his finger, then relax as he shivered under Castiel's ministrations.

"More," Dean demanded as Castiel blew on the spit slicked skin, raising gooseflesh around the peak of reddened flesh, "I'm good for more." He gestured vaguely downwards, widening his parted thighs, offering himself to Castiel's eager hands. Castiel curled his free hand around Dean's hip, steadying him as he pressed a second slicked digit in alongside the first, carefully stretching and scissoring. Dean's spine arced off the mattress as he dealt with the added strain, making his untended nipple that much easier for Castiel's mouth to access. He sucked and lapped, and let just the barest hint of an incisor skim across the point as he followed Dean's chest back down to the memory foam, his left hand braced on Dean's pelvis like he was riding out the wave of an earthquake. Dean's spine was beginning to _roll_, unconsciously pushing himself further down on Castiel's fingers even as his hands dragged Castiel upwards by the hair until he could crash their mouths together.

Even lying supine before him Dean's kiss was forceful, and Castiel let him have control, opening his mouth to Dean's probing tongue as his body began to open and give under Castiel's firm touch. With a crook of his fingers Castiel rubbed against something hidden that made Dean break the kiss with a gasp, cursing as his hands tightened on the back of Castiel's neck.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed, eyes wide, "Do that again."

Castiel obeyed, adding more lube and a third finger as he sought out the small bundle of nerves within his lover that sent Dean's head crashing back against his pillows.

"_Ooohhhh,"_ Dean moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. Castiel shuddered, gripping the base of his cock tightly as he watched Dean writhe in such obvious pleasure. It was all he could do to continue flexing his fingers, the salt of Dean's skin, damp with sweat even in the cool interior of the bunker, vibrant on his tongue as he licked into the man's navel. Dean still had one hand nested in Castiel's hair, and the other wound tightly in the bed sheets as he stared down at Castiel with fluttering eyelids.

"You're going to make me climax just from looking at you," Castiel murmured, mouthing at the soft belly just above the line of Dean's pubic hair. Dean responded by shoving himself down hard on Castiel's fingers, arms braced against the headboard for leverage.

"Then you had better hurry up and fuck me," Dean said, his cocksure grin tempered by his panting breaths and blown pupils. He left his arms on the pillows above his head, displayed, wanton, _wanting,_ a whole and perfect body for Castiel to view and touch; an opening, hot and stretched and slick and _ready,_ so ready for Castiel to fill.

Castiel found his breath coming short as he scrabbled at the condom box, tossing the rest aside as he managed to snare of the packets with trembling hands.

"Will you," Castiel hesitated, the foil slick against his fingers, "Will you help me?" Instantly Dean's hands were there to guide, every kiss grounding even as they both shook with need. Castiel's eyes fluttered at the roll of latex down his cock, even the light touch overwhelming sensation.

"It's gonna be good, Cas," Dean promised with the kisses of his mouth, guiding Castiel's slick fingers over his cock, preparing the way, "It's gonna be so good." Castiel could only smile, pressing Dean back down into the pillows and sealing their mouths together. Dean hummed into the kiss, mouth open and tongue languid, wrapping his arms around Castiel's lower back. They jumped a little as the head of Castiel's cock caught on Dean's rim, desire thrumming through them both like a plucked bow string. Forehead to forehead, Castiel saw nothing in Dean's green eyes but arousal and anticipation. _I want this,_ they said, _I want you. _

"Anytime you're ready, champ." Dean's words were playful, but his voice was soft, and Castiel dropped a reverent kiss on his lover's sternum before gripping him firmly just below his ribcage. A moment for alignment and then a slow push.

"_Oh_."

Castiel heard Dean's strained chuckle and he realized with a start that that breathless exclamation had come from _him_. He was only just inside, the head of Castiel's cock just past that first taut barrier and yet he was stepping from a wading pool into the ocean. Castiel's mouth was slack even as his arms shook from restraint and _Dean_, Dean was a mountain. He was a rock, a foundation upon which Castiel was rebuilding his entire world as he joined their bodies one strenuous inch at a time.

"C'mon angel, you're doin' great." Even now, giving so much of himself, changing what had once been a granite definition of sexuality and attraction, Dean was still trying to comfort _Castiel._ Castiel pressed forward another increment, if only so he could reach Dean's mouth, showing him with lips and tongue and breath what exactly this moment meant to him.

"You are a _revelation_," Castiel breathed. Dean flushed under his praise, a muscle in his jaw flickering as Castiel's groin pressed flat against the back of Dean's thighs, sheathed completely inside his friend's body. It was…perfect. Tight, hot; completion he'd always longed for but never been able to name. Castiel shivered, rocking slightly inside Dean as his fragile Grace roiled beneath his skin.

"And you're a goddamned _tease_," Dean retorted, rolling his own hips against their joined bodies, encouraging Castiel to move even as he winced, Dean's body adjusting to a new and strange fullness. Untouched, Castiel thought wildly as he withdrew slowly, only the tip playing at Dean's rim. Virgin. It didn't do to dwell on human obsessions like virginity, but as he sank into velvet heat Castiel couldn't resist a thrill of satisfaction. No one else had touched Dean this way.

"Mm…again, Cas," Dean entreated, groaning pleasantly as Castiel pumped in and out in a one smooth motion. Castiel leaned down to taste the salt of Dean's skin, lips and tongue skimming the lines of perspiration on Dean's neck. Castiel was sweating as well, though it was more from the sensation than actual exertion. Angelic stamina didn't do anything to lessen the quaking of his limbs as Castiel began to thrust in earnest, each stroke a like a tidal ebb of overwhelming gratification. Dean's muscled thighs were wrapped around Castiel's hips, their slight bow only allowing their bodies to fit together more snugly. Dean's arms enfolded him, and amidst the labored flex and retract of their diaphragms Castiel couldn't help but think perhaps he and Dean were shifting tectonic plates. Drifting painfully slow by human standards, radically fast by cosmic ones, but now joined, fused, by the very fires of Creation.

As Castiel rediscovered Dean's prostate, cueing a stream of endearments and profanities, Castiel decided he quite liked the image.

"Oh _shit_, come on Cas," Dean implored, catching Castiel's mouth in a messy kiss, "So good." Dean's ankles locked behind Castiel's spine and then he was pushing up as Castiel was shoving down, their rhythm messy and hot and perfect. Castiel was grunting and whimpering equally into Dean's mouth, sheltering and being sheltered as they rocked together. Dean was so _beautiful_, the submissive receptor and yet a stronghold, a cradle. Their foreheads met and Castiel knew as their desperation increased that Dean understood. Amid the slap of skin and the rustle of cotton there was no dominant partner. They were warriors, lovers, _equals,_ proven in the field of battle and on the home front. They were two caretakers, guardians who in each other had finally found someone who could look upon their weaknesses not only with tolerance, but with empathy and desire. There was no need to fear, or hide. Castiel watched these thoughts wash across Dean's darkened eyes, like watching the wave of a stiff breeze make its way across the Kansas prairie.

"Dean," Castiel sighed, throat tight.

"I'm here," Dean whispered, "I'm with you."

"Yes." Castiel was moving, _touching_, a wide palm against the rippling muscle of Dean's thigh, another at his shoulder. Armature for an approaching climax. And it was approaching, Castiel's rhythm dissipating in the clutch of Dean's inner muscles around his cock. Dean's own erection pressed urgently against Castiel's belly, stimulated by the fervor of their intercourse and the passable accuracy of Castiel's head against his lover's prostate. Castiel was too inexperienced, too overwhelmed, to last, himself in many ways still virgin until this moment. Dean's stuttered encouragements faded into a whine of white noise as Castiel buried himself in his partner and came, vision eclipsing as he wrapped himself into the curve of Dean's neck with a choked groan.

"Shhh," Dean murmured, warm hands rubbing up and down Castiel's back as he shook through his orgasm.

"_Thank you_," Castiel breathed into the crux of Dean's neck.

"It was nothing," Dean quipped despite his panting breaths, smirk already returning as Castiel softened inside of him. Castiel shook his head, rising to meet Dean's eyes as he cupped the man's face in one hand and reached down for his demanding cock with the other.

"It was _everything_."

Dean gasped sharply as Castiel began to stroke. Already he was on the brink, barely flinching as Castiel slid out to kneel over him and watch raptly as Dean fell apart. Castiel knew even without the warm spill over his hand the exact moment that Dean let go, enthralled by the minutiae of Dean's facial expressions, from the momentary tension of climax to the soft and lethargic smile of afterglow. Father in Heaven, there had never been a more glorious display of human sensation, and there never would be again. Not for Castiel.

Dean's hands were heavy as they pawed at Castiel's neck and shoulders, pulling Castiel down beside him to stroke sleepily at his face and hair.

"See, Cas?" Dean laughed softly, "Told you. No reason to be nervous."

Castiel chuckled, fumbling momentarily to dispose of his condom before tucking himself in close to Dean's side. He wiped the remaining traces of their intercourse from his hands before shaking out the rumpled bed sheets and bundling them in together, one hand on the soft belly just below Dean's navel as they kissed. It was a slow and satisfied kiss, disrupted by accomplished grins and by Dean's huge yawn.

"Sorry," he grinned, eyes fluttering, "Big day. Must have really taken it out of me." Castiel just kissed him again, a teasing brush of his fingers against Dean's well used hole enough to coax out one last over stimulated yelp. Castiel wondered at this man, so hardened in many ways, could still be so sensitive. So responsive. Dean was smiling, despite his attempts at a comic scowl as he ruffled Castiel's hair.

"I'm gonna be sore in the morning," Dean mumbled, tucking a kiss against Castiel's temple before rolling over onto his side, "And I'm taking it outta your ass."

"Is that so?" Castiel wound an arm around Dean's middle, careful not to press too tight for the sake of Dean's sensitive backside. Already Dean's breathing was evening out as he sank into a relaxed and well sated sleep.

"That's a promise, angel," he slurred before going completely slack in Castiel's hold. Castiel flicked off the lights with his Grace and settled in for the night, falling into a serene trance as he followed the rise and fall of his friend's chest in the darkness.


End file.
